


Making An Adjustment

by Sarah_Ellie



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Really it's a little bit of everything, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Ellie/pseuds/Sarah_Ellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Q took special suppressants to disguise himself as a Beta. He thought he could hide his status as an Omega and live a relatively quiet life as the head of Q Branch. </p><p>Unfortunately, his job at MI6 would prove to be the very thing that ruins everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful and brilliant dalekfighter1190!
> 
> The Omega!verse dynamics that I use in this fic are a blend of what I've read throughout the 00Q fandom, although specific mention should be given to ConsultingWriters, whose alpha/beta/omega dynamics were brilliantly conceived and so I have borrowed a few ideas from them as I explored this omegaverse of my own.

The inside of Q’s mouth tasted tangy, like copper, and was desperately dry. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had tasted anything besides his own blood. The thirst almost distracted from the agonizing headache creeping up the back of his neck, up his skull, and then banded across his eyes.

What it couldn’t distract him from were the waves of raw need beginning to wrack his body. He felt them boiling in his gut; heavy and frantic. He didn’t have much time. His heat would begin soon. Very soon. 

Q groaned and tried for the hundredth time to pull out of the restraints that bound his legs, waist, and arms to the chair that he was tied to, but all that resulted in was the painful reminder of the rope burn on his wrists and ankles. He let out a puff of breath just as a far stronger wave of unhinged desire tore through his body, turning his silence into a keening wail. He hadn’t had a proper heat in a year; not since becoming Q- Medical had been all too willing to give him access to suppressants.

But he had been captured for the last ten days, him and Bond and Tanner, and his body’s resistance to his own biology was finally shutting down. The last traces of the suppressants were leaving his system, and the lack was triggering a heat stronger than he had ever experienced.

From the other side of the metal door to his cell, Q heard a yell that bordered on a roar. There was an intense crash, yelling, and a gunshot, but the noise did not die down. A cacophony of voices, all speaking a guttural language that Q did not understand, shouted at one another over the yelling.

There was the sound of something heavy and metal being thrown aside, and Q watched with growing dread as the door to his cell was thrown open and a thin man walked a few steps into the room, a gun trained on Q.

“Ärge liigutage!” The man shouted at Q, waving the gun at him. “Ärge liigutage või ma tapan teid mõlemaid*.”

At first Q didn’t understand what was happening; he was too distracted by the desperate, nauseating need that was lighting each of his individual nerves as if he were electrified. But then the scent reached his nose; the musky, sultry scent of an Alpha that had registered a heat. It wasn’t coming from the man standing in Q’s cell with him, it was being drawn from somewhere else. 

There were no words for the panic that gripped Q. He had gone his entire life, short as it was, without being bonded. Now, he was not going to have a choice. He was going to be torn apart, bonded to someone, and it could never be undone.

“No, please.” Q began to beg through the uncontrolled pulling of his body. Sweat dampened his dark hair, and his breath became ragged. “Pozhaluysta, ne delayte etogo*” Q spoke in rapid-fire Russian in the hopes that the man would understand him.

“Suu kinni!” He snapped, casting a wary glance down the hallway. “Ärge liigutage!”

There was the tiny scrape of metal on concrete, which grated against Q’s nerves He flinched, and then panted as the smell of the Alpha became more powerful. Q could hear the sounds of struggle, and yelling, as the Alpha drew closer.

A wave of dread, mixed with the roiling pangs from his heat, tore through Q as 007 appeared in the doorway. His hands were bound behind his back, and three guards stood behind him in addition to the one that had his weapon trained on Q. It was clear by the tense pull of Bond’s neck, his shoulders and the dark look in his eye that their captors had had no trouble steering Bond into Q’s cell. Bond’s nostrils were flared, and his face was pulled into an expression more appropriate for a feral animal.

With three guns pointed to Bond’s head, one of the guards took out a knife and cut the ropes around Bond’s wrists. Had the situation been different, Bond may have seized that opportunity to overtake their captors. As it was, Bond barely noticed the guards in lieu of Q, who he was staring at with rapt attention.

The guards retreated from the room and shut the door. A heavy lock was engaged from the other side, and Q was now trapped in a small room, tied to a chair, in heat, with an Alpha.

Immediately, Bond withdrew against the opposite wall, his chest heaving as his fingers clawed against the floor. He stared at Q with a mix of lust and horror. Q screwed his eyes shut, trying and failing to shut down his body’s response to Bond’s proximity.

“You told… me you… were… a Beta.” Bond hissed through his teeth.

“Q Branch technology.” Q groaned. “Suppressants that effectively change my body’s pheromones.”

“Fuck!” Bond slammed his head backwards against the wall. The rest of his body jerked at the impact, and Q heard Bond’s shoes scrape against the floor. “Q, I can’t- fuck.”

Q’s body reached full heat. He writhed and groaned, wet and ready for bonding with an Alpha. His cock was hard, straining against the trousers that he had been wearing since his abduction. He cried out in need and groaned so deeply that he felt it rattle in his chest. His fingernails scraped against the wooden arm of the chair, and his body arched away from the seat as he tried to pull free to be closer to Bond.

If it were at all possible to die from need, then that would have been the moment where Q perished.

“Double-oh Sev- Bond, please. Bond please.” Q began to beg, already thrown across the threshold of desperation. A dim part of him was aware that he would break the last strained filaments of Bond’s resolve, and that he was asking Bond to bind himself to Q forever. A stronger part just wanted it all to be over; to have the need sated. He saw something ripple through Bond at his words; something similar to pity, or maybe sympathy.

Bond pushed himself off of the wall and crossed the room. He ran his hands through Q’s hair and down his arms, pausing at the ropes. He began to tug at the binds furiously, growling at the angry, red rashes on Q’s wrists.

He did the same with the ropes at Q’s chest and feet. Before Q had a chance to stand, Bond pulled him off of the chair and pressed him to the wall and held him tight to his chest, breathing in deeply. Q whined and rutted himself against Bond desperately.

“Have they hurt you?” Bond asked, bracing one arm over Q’s shoulder to press against the wall as he ran his nose down Q’s neck. Q bared his throat immediately, opening the skin on his neck to be marked. Bond ran his tongue over the corded muscles that joined Q’s shoulder with his neck.

“No, I’m okay.” Q said breathlessly. “Bond, please. I can’t stand it anymore.”

Bond nodded and began to strip Q. He pulled off the dingy button-down that had been torn, and growled when he saw small markings of blood from a scrape that Q had acquired during the abduction. Q began to unhook the belt at his waist but stopped when Bond pushed his hands out of the way and did it himself, pulling down Q’s trousers and pants in a single, fluid motion. Unlike Bond, Q did not have shoes- he was barefoot.

Moisture was gathered at the apex between Q’s legs. Bond reached down and ran his hands behind Q’s balls, sucking on the skin at Q’s neck as his fingers touched Q’s ready entrance.

“Fuck, Bond, I can’t wait any longer.” Q keened at Bond’s touch, shoulders pressed against the wall as he pressed himself against Bond’s clothed groin. He reached forward and worked open the buttons of Bond’s shirt so that he could run his fingers over the muscles of Bond’s chest. He felt guilty when he pressed at yellowing bruises, eliciting a small hiss from Bond.

Bond cupped the back of Q’s neck with his free hand and brought him close for a moment so that he could press a light bite onto Q’s skin. Then he pulled them both downwards, directing Q’s knees so that he was kneeling on top of the discarded fabric of his trousers and pressing his elbows and arms onto the shirt that laid on the ground.

The agent was mercifully quick as he unfastened his trousers and pressed them down enough to pull out his erection and press it against Q’s opening. He pushed easily into Q’s slick hole, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion while Q gasped and writhed beneath him. Q laid his cheek on the side of his arm as Bond fucked into him, and braced himself so that he could reach down for his own cock.

His body was eager when he felt Bond’s knot begin to press even more deeply into his body. With a shuddering groan, Q thrust himself back against Bond. A small spark of dread triggered within Q as Bond’s knot held tight within him- their bond would be complete. There wouldn’t be anything that they could do about it.

“I… I’m on contraceptives.” Q groaned, realizing with horror that despite their circumstance, there was a chance that Bond would be disgusted by the information. “A six month dose.”

“Okay.” Bond’s breath stuttered as he held himself flush against Q, grinding his lower body tight against Q’s arse. A few seconds later, he let out a tight moan as he came. Q followed quickly, coating his hand and the floor with come. As he rode out the relief of orgasm, Bond folded over his body and bit down onto his neck, marking Q as his.

Q’s legs began to shake, and Bond wrapped a strong hand around the smaller man’s hip and gently pulled them both back into a seated position while he waited for his knot to recede. Bond carefully guided Q’s body so that the younger man’s head could rest against Bond’s shoulder. He could feel the damp sweat where Q’s forehead rested against his jaw, and he held Q’s body tighter in response. Their breaths began to flow in unison, and Bond listened to the low melody that their bodies made until he felt his knot recede. Gently, he pulled out, and they moved so that Bond could lean his back against the wall. Bond nuzzled his nose against Q’s hair, relishing in Q’s scent. Q rested against the warmth of Bond’s chest, falling into a mostly-contented sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, beta'd by the always-wonderful and ever-patient dalekfighter1190. All coherency is owed to her!

For three days, no one came near their cell except once to slide a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels under the door. Both were sealed, so Bond deemed them safe, and made Q drink first.

“You need some too.” Q murmured sleepily. The hunger and thirst had begun to take a physical toll on him.

“I will, you first.” Bond insisted, rubbing a hand over Q’s back. They did not talk about what their new bond meant in the outside world. The rules of their pairing were much more lax in the tiny universe of their cell. Instead they compared notes on their captors.

“They destroyed the tracker in my shoes.” Q explained to Bond when he asked why Q had been barefoot. “I guess they were concerned that I had another that they wouldn’t be able to find. They cut out the one from my arm.” Q pulled up his shirt sleeve to show the gash just below his elbow. Bond’s eye darkened at the sight of Q’s wound.

“They cut mine out as well.” Bond said, shrugging one shoulder. Q had seen the cut that ran a few inches across the skin in the same relative place that Q’s had been.“Do you think they found Tanner’s too?”

“Tanner doesn’t have one.” Q lied, casting a glance at the door to his cell. His mouth stumbled over the falsehood as he looked at his Alpha. “There’s nothing to find.”

Of course, the truth was that of the three of them, Tanner’s tracker was the most difficult to locate. His proximity to M made him high-risk for capture, and so he had been outfitted with a deep-tissue tracker that was virtually undetectable. To throw anyone off, his gun- which had been taken off of him immediately after their capture- had a tracker on the handle grip.

Q’s heat, which had initially been sated after their first encounter, peaked five more times over those three days. Each time was far less uncomfortable, and Bond was quick and careful to attend to Q. Most of the time, Bond was aware of the coming heat before Q, who was distracted by hunger and thirst and a dull pain that had begun to grow in his lower back.

On the fourth day after their bonding, the pain in Q’s back had grown significantly. He lay on the ground, on his side, trying to breathe through his discomfort.

Concerned for Q, Bond began to bang on the metal door to the cell, screaming in every language that he knew for a doctor. Q recognized the words in English, French, Spanish, and Russian. He assumed the ones that he didn’t recognize were Arabic, Farsi, and Chinese.  
On the sixth day, there was blood in Q’s urine. Q began to panic, sure that he would die on the dingy floor under Bond’s worried gaze. Bond tried to sooth him, but there was only so much that either of them could do. Bond had paced the room relentlessly, looking for some way to escape. He had determined fairly quickly that their best chance for escape would be if their captors returned to the room, which they did not seem very keen on doing. 

On the seventh day, an MI6-contracted extraction team finally arrived. They were German, not English, and three of the team members were Alphas. Bond stood in front of Q, who was curled on the floor. He growled until the Alphas left to attend to Tanner, who was in a cell down the hall. Instantly, Bond’s posture eased and he stepped aside to give the remaining crew access to Q.

“Er braucht einen Arzt.” Bond said to one of the members of the team. “Haben sie einen Arzt geschickt??”

“Ja.” One of the crew nodded.

One of the extraction team made a move to lift Q, but froze when Bond whipped around to him.

“Sie haben ein Verbündnis der Seelen!” One of the team members said, pulling their compatriot away from Q. Bond watched darkly as they all backed away slowly, and allowed the agent to bend down and lift Q and carry him out of the complex under the protection of their rescuers.

Q’s exhaustion was such that he did not fight being put on a helicopter, which airlifted them to a British consulate in Turkey. From there, they were put on a private plane where a small medical team waited.

The medical team were made up of Betas, but the plane’s pilot and copilot were both Alphas. There were no Omegas on staff. One of the members of the consulate, who had been briefed by the head of the German extraction team, pulled the pilot aside to explain the situation while Bond stood on the tarmac with Q in his arms. Tanner, who appeared slightly battered but otherwise no worse for wear, stood a few feet away smoking a cigarette that someone had offered.

One of the members of the medical team came over to lead Bond onto the plane, where she brought them to a small room near the center of the private jet. The room had two beige chairs and a table between them, in addition to a counter space where a series of medical supplies were set up. Quickly, another medic came and began to examine Q. They took a urine sample, and immediately determined that Q had a very advanced kidney infection, and was at risk for kidney failure. They reclined one of the chairs so that Q could be more comfortable, and sent out a call to a local hospital for medical supplies.

The flight was delayed while the medics put Q on an intravenous drip to hydrate him and began to inject him with high-grade antibiotics. After they finished, they left Bond and Q in the room alone. Q flinched as the plane took off, and groaned while it gained altitude. Bond rested his hand over Q’s, and held it tightly.

“How do you feel?” Bond asked quietly.

“Like I’ve been abducted, gone into heat, fucked within an inch of my life, suffered dehydration, and have kidneys that are slowly shutting down while I’m being catapulted hundreds of thousands of feet through the air with a needle in my arm.” Q replied sourly.

“So not so bad, then?” Bond asked innocently. Q shot him an evil eye and then pretended to sleep for a few minutes while Bond stood to try and find alcohol.

“I’m going to step into the cabin for a minute, okay?” Bond asked, uncertain. His very physiology fought against the thought of walking away from Q, but he desperately needed to clear his head. The need grew the closer that they got to England, and it was impossible to clear his thoughts with Q in the same room as him. Not only was Q covered in Bond’s scent, but he was also emitting the low odor of sickness. It nagged at the worry that grew in the pit of Bond’s stomach, and he needed to get out of the room, at least for a minute. Besides, there was something that he needed to do.

“Okay.” Q replied weakly, glancing out the window. Bond decided that he would not let himself be gone for very long.

When he stepped out into the cabin, he took a deep breath and walked over to where Tanner was seated in a small cluster of seats, staring out of the plane window.

“Alright, Tanner?” Bond asked, locating a bottle of amber liquid in a cabinet towards the front of the cabin. He poured a measure into a tumbler and held it out to the man, who accepted it. Bond then poured some into a second glass and took the seat across from him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tanner said. Bond was relieved to find that Tanner’s typically calm energy was still intact, now that the immediate threat was resolved. “I don’t know if we should be drinking though.”

Bond shrugged and sipped from his glass. Tanner watched him carefully and cleared his throat.

“How’s Q?” He asked tentatively.

“He’ll survive.” Bond replied. He lowered the drink to his lap and ran his thumb over the bottom of the glass.

“We’ll have to tell M immediately about your... situation.” Tanner said, taking a long pull from his drink. Bond nodded and then downed his own glass in one, and stood to pour another.

“Have we ever had a bonded Quartermaster?” Bond asked, uncapping the bottle. Tanner flinched at the use of terminology.

“Not to my knowledge.” Tanner replied. “It’s a rather complicated inconvenience, and an Omega’s rights don’t exactly lend themselves to powerful positions. Their allegiances to their Alphas dominate the allegiance to their workplace, usually.” 

“If he’s fired, I will resign.” Bond said, staring down at Tanner.

“I will take that under advisement and inform M, 007.” Tanner said. His exhaustion was evident in his voice, and he turned to stare back out the window.

“Be sure that you do.” Bond replied, deciding that he had been away from Q long enough. He gave Tanner a final nod and went back to the room where Q lay, sleeping. The man stirred slightly as Bond entered, and he looked up from under long, dark eyelashes and smiled slightly.

“Found the refreshments, did you?” Q asked. Bond settled into the chair next to him and reached to take his hand again.

“I did.” Bond nodded.

“You look serious. What’s happened?” Q sat up, his eyes opened a little wider. Anxiety began to grip him, imaging everything from a plane malfunction to something that would pull Bond away from him. He tried to quell that anxiety, loathing the newly developed dependence his body was instilling between himself and Bond.

“Nothing, Q. I’m just tired.” Bond said, setting his glass on the table in one of the deep divots. It rattled slightly, but did not move. Silence reigned over the room for a long time.

One of the pilot’s voices rang out over the intercom a while later, informing everyone that the plane would be descending in the UK. Bond tensed slightly at the sound of another Alpha’s voice and Q glanced over with worry.

“Bond, what are we going to do?” Q asked, his voice edged with panic.

“About us?” Bond asked. Q nodded. “We’ll make it work.”

“I… I don’t know how to be someone’s Omega. I’ve never been bonded. I have a job- and a flat, and a cat, and things. I have a lot of stuff, Bond, and I like my stuff. And I don’t know how to cook, and the only cleaning tool I own is a swiffer and I think it’s broken- will they fire me? Oh my god, M is going to fire me and it’s going to kill my mother-“ He began to hyperventilate.

“Q, calm down.” Bond rose from the chair only to kneel on the floor in front of Q. Quickly he pulled an airsick bag from a cubby under the table and opened it. He pressed the opening over Q’s mouth and nose and instructed Q to breathe. “I promise you, I’m not going to let you lose your job, and I really couldn’t care less that you don’t know how to cook. This lifestyle isn’t any more familiar to me than it is to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Q said, once his breathing had calmed.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.” Bond said. Just then, there was a knock on the door. One of the medics popped her head in, and Bond stood to give her room. Q blanched as she began to fiddle with the tubes and needles. 

"So what's your cat's name?" Bond asked in an attempt to find a suitable distraction. Q glanced up, his eyes gazing resolutely on Bond's body. 

"Schrodinger." Q replied. Bond chuckled. 

"Of course it is." He said. 

Their descent was smooth, and both Q and Bond were relieved to be back on British soil.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful and ever-patient Dalekfighter1190.

Their landing was moderately smooth. The pilot drove the small plane carefully up towards a private plane hangar, where a small group of people were waiting just outside. From the window of the plane, Q could see his second-in-command, R, standing on the tarmac. Bond, who was quickly alerted to the distraction outside of the window, glanced over Q’s shoulder.

“Well this certainly isn’t protocol.” He murmured.

They remained in the cabin of the plane until they heard R’s approach. A tidy woman with long curly hair, she smiled politely when Bond let her into the small room where he stayed with Q.

“I’ll be assisting in a teleconference with M, Sir.” She said, looking at Q. Her tone faltered around the end of the sentence, and Q closed his eyes for a moment before responding.

“Thank you, R, your assistance is appreciated.” Q said.

R nodded curtly and turned her back on Q. She took a sleek laptop from a bag and pulled an MI6 mobile phone from the inside pocket of her jacket. She set both pieces of equipment on a low counter and began to type. Bond glanced over at Q with his eyebrows raised.

“She’s setting up a wifi hotspot so that we can speak with M from here, instead of from headquarters.” Q explained. Bond’s eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything.

“I just need to get a secure connection established.” R said, mostly to herself. Q peered over her shoulder and sighed.

“You need to use your secondary mobile to create a dummy connection. It’s programmed to override the MI6 connection to mask it.” Q said.   
R’s back went rigid and she quickly pulled out a second mobile device and began to set it up.

Bond watched the exchange in silence. He recognized a power struggle when he saw one, and clearly R had taken Q’s recent bonding as an opportunity to climb a bit further up the MI6 ladder. It stood to reason, of course; Q had once held R’s job title, as had the Q before him. The difference, however, was that R was trying to usurp the position because of Q’s social stature, not from an inability to do his job.

R pulled up a video feed and initiated the call before leaving the room. She gave a nod towards Bond, who ignored her and shut the door the moment that she crossed the threshold.

“Q. Double-oh Seven.” M appeared on the computer screen.

“Sir.” Bond and Q replied in unison.

“We’ll skip the tiresome niceties, shall we?” M said, shuffling through a sheaf of papers on his desk. “I’ve been informed of the events that occurred during your captivity. It is certainly not an ideal situation, but there isn’t anything that can be done at this point, I suppose.” He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Of course, my understanding was that this situation wasn’t a risk at all. Somehow, Q, all of your personal records are inaccessible to the entirety of Q Branch, including myself. We couldn’t even determine whether you had a peanut allergy, let alone your status as an Omega. You will be required to alter this immediately upon your return to MI6, understood?”

Q nodded and muttered in assent. M seemed to take this as an acceptable response, and continued. “As for the general consensus that you were a Beta and not, in fact, an Omega- well, I cannot punish you for general assumption and hearsay, but if information arises that indicates that you forged your status in formal documentation, then we will have a very serious situation on our hands.”

“I understand, sir.” Q said.

“Now, we have some security concerns to address as well. While Pairing Laws have introduced a number of privacy measures over the last few years, I hope that you will both see fit to cooperate with MI6 should any voluntary information benefit the needs of your country.” M paused, looking sternly at Q and Bond both. “For instance, you are not required by law to report any contests for Q’s submission, however this informal- Bond, refrain yourself please.” 

Bond had moved to the edge of his seat and tensed visibly, looking at M with fire in his eyes. Q reached across the short distance between them and tried to get Bond to sit back. As he fell under Bond’s harsh gaze, Q faltered and returned his hand to his lap, head lowered to the side so that his neck was bared in submission. Bond’s gaze softened immediately, and M continued to speak.

“However, this information could help us determine whether Q’s security clearance has been compromised by a volatile Alpha.”

“He hasn’t been compromised.” Bond said before Q could answer himself.

“Very well.” M sighed in relief. “It would also mean a great deal for us to know the situation with your current pack, Double-oh Seven. We have no records of its activities.”

Q glanced at Bond, dread growing in his gut. He hadn’t considered the chance that Bond already had an Omega, if not multiple. It wasn’t unheard of, certainly. Some packs could be as large as six or seven people, Beta’s included. It was one thing to adjust to life with one person, but he hadn’t considered having to become a part of such a large group as well. It certainly wasn’t something that he wanted for himself.

“I don’t have a pack.” Bond said, clearing his throat. “Nor do I have another Omega.”

“Your current relationships have all involved Betas, then?” M prompted. Bond bristled.

“Yes.” He said curtly.

“Then we do not seem to have any immediate security threats, besides the very hazardous vulnerability of having MI6’s head of Q Division and her best agent physically and emotionally bonded. You will both have to be extremely careful in how you proceed from here. If one of you is captured or killed, it could mean dire consequences for the other.”

“We understand.” Bond said, although Q felt once again as if all of the air had been sucked from the room.

“Very well then. While this subject certainly has not been exhausted, I am a busy man and have more important things to attend to. I’ve had a Pairing Advisory Packet sent to your home. In it you will find safety protocols and suggested procedures to help you both carry out a healthy and safe relationship within the very demanding confines of MI6. You will spend the next few days adjusting and establishing safety protocols, and this will be the last that your relationship inconveniences MI6.

“Which leads me to my last point. A team of specialists has moved all of your individual belongings out of your flats. It is too high a hazard for you both to return to the buildings where you lived now that you’ve been newly bonded; the close proximity of other Alphas and Omegas are considered to be too risky. Your things have been taken to a house not far from MI6. You will live there from now on.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bond nodded. Q looked at Bond in shock and then spoke up.

“Wait a moment, you moved my things? I didn’t give anyone permission… I like my flat!” He declared, looking from Bond to M furiously. “I don’t want to move!”

“Q, you are a bonded Omega now.” M said, his face darkening. “You may have been able to live out a life with certain expectations before, but your place has changed. Pairing Laws dictate that an Omega must live, willing or unwilling, in the homestead designated by their Alpha. Bond’s residential situations are contractually stipulated by MI6. You will move into the new place, and I won’t hear a word of complaint from either of you about it.” 

“Yes, Sir.” Q said hollowly. He knew that MI6’s hesitance to go against Pairing Law had more to do with a deep disinterest in sexual politics rather than what was actually best for their employees. After all, Q had spent the last five years carefully carving a place for himself in the world as a Beta; and what’s more, one that did not engage with anyone except for other Betas. MI6 had never questioned his actions, because they didn’t care. There was no harm in a Beta engaging with a Beta, and it allowed him to live a life largely void of societal restraints. Now, he was thrust back into a world filled with closed doors.

M signed off, and Bond alerted R to the conversation’s termination. She came in and began to clear up, followed by a medic who began to disconnect Q from the IV in his arm. She handed Bond a bottle with prescription pills, antibiotics, and gestured that they were permitted to leave the plane. Q opened his mouth as if to say something to the medic, but cut himself off when he caught the glance that Bond shot his direction. Instead he huffed out his breath and began to walk out of the plane. 

Bond reached out to try and help Q, but Q pulled himself away and walked on his own shaking legs through the main cabin of the plane. The sun that poured in from the open doorway burned his eyes, and Q had to squint against the light as he gripped the railing that descended from the plane to the tarmac. A car was waiting for them there to take them home.

The house that MI6 had assigned Q and Bond was a small, two-storey building with a brick exterior and brand new locks on the doors. Bond made to walk in first, but wasn’t able to maneuver past the security system on the door.

“Let me- it’s my design.” Q said, squeezing past Bond. As he began to type in the code to the door, he felt Bond’s fingers ghosting along the back of his neck.

“I’ll give you the code once we get inside, they didn’t recalibrate the numbers, just re-installed it here.” Q mumbled as he worked. “R must have helped them.”

“She does seem rather keen on being helpful.” Bond said under his breath as the locks on the door disengaged. Q stepped inside and Bond followed closely, one arm on Q’s shoulder.

Most of the furniture in the common area was clearly Bond’s. Q had never seen it before, but the unfamiliar shapes combined with the expensive materials made it easy to deduce. He noted the glass tables, the leather couch, and the titanium accents.

The realization that there was only one bedroom tucked away on the second floor caused a small riot in Q’s mind, but he tried not to show it as he wandered towards the side of the bed where one of his throw blankets had been placed. On the bedside table- also Bond’s- was the book that he had been reading before the assignment that had gotten him captured.

On top of the book rested his half-spent pack of suppressants, which must have been taken from their place in his hotel room from the assignment.

Q paused, lifting the packet into his hands. The foil crinkled between his fingers, and suddenly Q felt an odd sense of betrayal towards the little pills. They had hidden him in plain sight for a long time, but at the very first hiccup, he was exposed, and then he was claimed. Of course, “claimed” wasn’t the proper term for it- Alphas cried false at the term, preferring that it be called bonding. It stood to reason, but at the moment, Q felt as if “claimed” was the most appropriate term to use.

While Q stood staring at the pills, Bond watched from the opposite side of the room. He had gone in to check that a small ceramic bulldog had made it through the move unscathed, and was distracted by the sight of the suppressants. Pairing Laws were very clear on their use within a bonded pair; an Omega was not permitted to suppress their biology while he was bonded with an Alpha. But judging by the way that Q held the packet- not moving to hide them, or throw them away- Bond had to wonder if Q intended on taking them anyway. Q may have been obligated to be his mate, but that did not come with any sense of loyalty or love. Alphas had to earn those traits, and Bond suspected that Q would be hard-pressed to win over.

A pang triggered inside of Bond. He was an active Alpha now- responsible for Q’s well being. It had happened almost without his consent; biology had taken over, and his mind was shut out of the process. Now that Q’s heat was over and they were both facing their new lives with one another, Bond was feeling the weight of his new responsibility and the daunting task of convincing Q that he was actually capable of providing for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Dalekfighter1190.

Bond excused himself from the bedroom to make a call, and Q tried to busy himself sorting through the spare room that was designated as his office- complete with his threadbare couch where Schrodinger was nestled on a cushion, a sleeping white ball of fur.

Q went to his desk, pulled out a pen, and wrote out a string of numbers on the back of an index card before heading downstairs. He placed the card on top of Bond’s wallet, which was sitting next to the front door, and then wandered through the living room and back to the kitchen to see if his Earl Grey had, by some miracle, made it through the move. When he saw the familiar box of tea bags in a cabinet over the stove, he breathed a sigh of relief and began to boil water in a familiar kettle. 

He had just set the stovetop on HIGH when he heard Bond’s voice carrying in from the back deck, which was just off of the small dining area next to the kitchen. The late-afternoon light cast deep shadows of Bond along the walls. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t meet with you.” Bond was saying into the phone. “Yes, I know, but things have changed. I’m not… no. Yes. I’m sorry. Just, let me explain, please.”

Q stepped away from the kettle and leaned against a counter hidden from the line of sight of the balcony. It was silent, save for Bond’s conversation and the sounds of water percolating in the kettle.

“I was away on business and I was bonded with someone.” Bond said tersely. “I didn’t exactly have control over the situ- let me finish. You know it isn’t like that, I would have just been upfront about it if I had known. No. You know that’s not- YOU KNOW THIS WAS THE LAST THING THAT I WANTED, DAMNIT, WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THA- FUCK.” Q heard the clatter of Bond’s phone hitting the floor and a series of loud thuds as Bond’s hand slammed repeatedly into the wooden frame of the back door.

The water boiled over with a loud whistle just as Bond re-entered the house. His attention was caught by the piercing sound of the kettle, and his eyes went wide at the sight of Q standing in the kitchen.

“I- I’m sorry.” Q stammered, looking down in embarrassment. He felt the weight of Bond’s gaze on him.

“You heard.” Bond said plainly. Q nodded, and dared a glance at Bond’s face. It was terrifyingly devoid of emotion.

“Right then. You need to take your antibiotics soon.” Bond said, pulling a small pill bottle from the pocket of his suit jacket. He set it on the counter. “Excuse me.” Bond nodded slightly, turned, and left. Q stood in the kitchen and listened as Bond opened the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

With shaking hands, Q poured himself a cup of tea and retreated upstairs, closing himself inside of his office. He busied himself with unpacking a small box marked ECCENTRICITIES, which contained all manners of photographs, knick knacks, and collectibles. He placed these around the room where he could see them, marveling at how his entire life had been packed away into boxes and moved somewhere completely new without the slightest need of his oversight.

More than anything, Q wanted to sit down and begin to configure his computer, but his back still ached and he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Resigned, he sighed and picked up his mostly-empty mug. 

Schrodinger stood and stretched when she saw Q turn to leave, and followed him across the tiny seating area with the couch and chair. She rubbed up against Q’s legs when they passed into the bedroom that Q now shared with Bond. The cat jumped onto the end of the bed and watched with slowly blinking eyes while Q stripped out of the clothes that he had been given at the embassy and into a pair of pyjama bottoms. Q didn’t turn on a light in the bedroom; he allowed the light from a streetlight outside, which had flickered on a mere ten minutes after the sun had fully set, to illuminate the room. It was far earlier than Q would usually ever consider going to bed, but his body was worn and tired. 

His toothbrush was in the bathroom, along with his toothpaste- both tucked into the medicine cabinet besides Bond’s. Q scrubbed his teeth, spit into the sink, rinsed out his mouth, and drank deeply from the glass that he had always kept on the edge of his counter at home. He popped two antibiotics from the pill bottle and swallowed them down as well before shutting the bathroom door and crawling into bed. He was asleep rather quickly; cat curled at his side.

Bond came into the house a few hours later. He slipped his shoes off at the front door and carried them up the stairs. He walked quietly, knowing that it was late and that Q would be asleep- he had seen that Q’s office lights were out when he approached the house.

Quickly, Bond went into the bedroom and was relieved to see that Q was sleeping soundly, curled up in a tangle of blankets. The damned cat, whose name Bond still wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce, was curled up protectively at Q’s side. The cat, whose body was tucked among the sheets, stared at Bond with the indignity of a creature who rarely encountered strangers. Bond paused long enough to watch the steady rise and fall of Q’s body in tune with his breaths, and then quickly collected a throw blanket that had fallen off of the edge of the bed and retreated into the sitting area to lie on the couch. He heard the telltale _thud_ of the cat landing on the floor as it followed Bond out into the sitting area. It stared at Bond as he struggled to get comfortable on the sofa. The more comfortable of his couches was in the living room on the first floor, but Bond didn’t want to be so far away from Q. 

“What are you staring at?” Bond asked the cat grumpily. She flicked her tail lirritably and then padded off, back towards the bedroom. It struck Bond that the actual process of catching the feline and bringing it to the new house would have been a huge pain in the ass.

Bond sighed and rolled onto his back. He hated cats.

For a long time, Bond laid awake, mulling over how he felt about the entire situation. The call to Ursula, who he had been seeing for a number of months, had gone spectacularly poorly. She was a Beta without the deep conviction to attachment, but Bond’s sudden pairing had caught her off guard. Bond couldn’t blame her antagonism, and on a good day he probably wouldn’t have cared much at all whether she was upset or not. But the weight of Bond’s new responsibilities had gotten the better of him, and so he had forced himself to go and see her, to explain things fully, to take the responsible route.

The conversation had been brief- Ursula stood on her stoop with her arms crossed while Bond explained from the sidewalk. She sneered at his attempts at sincerity, and ultimately slammed the door in Bond’s face. He didn’t pause before turning away and getting himself lost in the streets of London. It took every ounce of strength that he had not to duck his head into a pub. He needed to stay sober. He needed to figure things out.

And yet, he had ended up back at the house without any new answers. As Bond stared up at the ceiling from the couch, he ran through what he knew. He could financially care for Q. He could protect Q, as long as he was around. His could tend to Q’s heats.

What he didn’t know was the real trouble. Bond had no idea how Q felt about him, now that his heat was wearing off and they were back in London. If Q’s carefully constructed life pretending to be a Beta indicated anything, it was that he had not wanted to be bonded. The conversation that Q had overheard that afternoon certainly wouldn’t help matters; neither would being uprooted into an apartment filled with Bond’s belongings while Q’s own were tucked away. And then there was the sex.

So many of the Pairing Laws revolved around an Alpha’s sexual dominance. Omegas were expected to do as their Alpha said and conform to whatever their Alpha needed them to be in exchange for the security and protection that society typically refused to provide. Omegas were constant subordinates, particularly in the bedroom, and it could make for a miserable existence if an Alpha wasn’t prone to giving a shit.

Bond and Q had not had sex since Q’s heat. This was traditionally atypical of a newly bonded pair. Typically the initial claiming process, a newly bonded pair couldn’t keep themselves away from one another. However considering Q’s medical condition and the extenuating circumstances, Bond was unwilling to risk initiating sex. He felt incredibly guilty for the low burning that had been pooling in his stomach since they had been rescued by the extraction team. His very biology wanted to continue to claim Q, to make sure that he was thoroughly marked and thoroughly his. But whatever social excuses that could be made for Bond, he still felt like a monster for wanting Q’s body when the young Quartermaster had been through so much. 

Those were the thoughts that carried Bond from a long period of wakefulness into a fitful sleep. 

A little over an hour later, Q woke up with a painful gasp. He bolted upright, grasping at the sheets. Schrodinger hissed and jumped to the floor, disappearing into the corner of the room where she peered sharply out at the room with reflective eyes. 

Q looked around, frantically pulling himself out of the blankets so that he could clamber out of the bed. One he had managed to extricate himself from the sheets, he paused by the end of the bed and raked his hands through his hair. His legs were shaking, and he could feel a slight tremor in his fingers. After taking a few moments to calm his ragged breath, Q reached up towards the head of the bed and opened the drawer set into his bedside table. He withdrew a crumpled pack of cigarettes and his lighter, and fled to the frigid mercy of the balcony. 

With shaking hands, Q brought a slightly damaged cigarette to his lips and lit it with one hand blocking the wind. The first intake of nicotine into his throat and lungs had an instant calming effect on Q, whether it was from the chemicals themselves or out of the comfort of a familiar habit, he had no idea. 

Leaning his back against the house, Q reminded himself that he was not in the cell in Georgia anymore. He was home, in London, and the men with guns and cruel faces couldn’t touch him. The fear didn’t ebb though, not through the first cigarette or the second. When Q lit his third, he was awash in the bitter realization that his current situation, while kinder, was as tentative as it had been for the last week.

That was when Q heard Bond stumble through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Seconds passed and the toilet flushed, followed by the running of the taps. Q assumed that Bond had just gotten home, and didn’t say anything, only remained against the wall of the balcony looking out into the night. Then one of the bedroom lights flicked on, and he heard Bond swear.

“Q?” He called, his voice tinged with audible panic.

“I’m out here.” Q replied, turning himself so that he could be seen through the glass of the balcony door. Bond made no effort to hide his relief. He ran a hand through his short, blond hair and walked out to join Q on the balcony.

“I thought that you’d left.” Bond admitted, leaning against the balcony’s railing. He accepted a cigarette from Q’s proffered pack, and lit it.

“Technically, that isn’t legal.” Q replied, flicking ash over the side of the railing. “I’m obligated to stay within the approved parameters set by my Alpha. As of right now, that consists of this house.”

“You can go anywhere that you want to go.” Bond said quickly. “Just so long as you’re safe.”

“And how will that be assured?” Q asked sharply, casting a dark look at Bond. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Bond replied. 

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Q asked, irritably changing the subject. 

“It’s not important.” Bond replied.

“I’d bet that whomever you were talking to would beg to differ.” Q said loftily, taking another drag. Bond stared at him for a moment.

“You don’t like me.” Bond said. Q smiled and carefully exhaled his smoke away from Bond’s face.

“I like you fine.” Q replied. “That doesn’t mean that I want to be your sex toy for the rest of my life.” He added cruelly.

Bond’s face instantly shrouded itself into an indifferent mask. He dropped the half-smoked cigarette over the edge of the balcony and walked back inside. Q heard him fumble around for a few moments before he descended the stairs and opened the front door. After taking a final drag of his cigarette, Q stubbed it out on the house and went back to bed, turning out the light that Bond had left on in his hurry to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful Dalekfighter1190!

Q’s phone was ringing. It was obnoxious. He picked up the device and checked the name that flashed on the screen.

“What do you want, Eve?” He groaned, pressing the mobile to his ear. “It’s bloody Saturday.” 

“I want you to get your sorry arse out of bed and meet me outside in five minutes.” Moneypenny replied before hanging up.

In his first few months at MI6, Q had quickly learned that disobeying Moneypenny was essentially the fast track to making your life miserable. Without hesitating, Q crawled out of bed and put on a pair of proper trousers and a jumper before slipping on his shoes and heading down the stairs. He was unsurprised to find Moneypenny standing outside, drinking a coffee and waiting for him.

“Morning.” Q said, doing his best to scrape his hair into order with his long fingers.

“Walk with me.” Moneypenny said. They turned and began to make their way down the street. She held out her mug to Q, which he accepted-, taking a deep gulp before handing the travel mug back.

“I had to go in to headquarters this morning to tend to some last minute paperwork.” Moneypenny began as they walked. “Imagine my surprise when I found Bond curled up in one of the interior lobbies, sleeping.”

“What’s your point?” Q asked, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

“What was he doing at headquarters, Q?” She asked, looking at Q with a hard glare. “You’ve just been paired, most people wouldn’t be apart long enough to piss let alone sleep on opposite sides of London.”

“No idea, Eve. It was his choice to go.” Q replied, blatantly ignoring Moneypenny’s use of hyperbole. She scoffed.

“You know, the last time that Bond promised that he would take care of someone, she was killed not even two weeks later.” Moneypenny said.

“And?”Q demanded, although he was beginning to feel as if he could guess it himself.

“You and Bond were forced to become a pair. That’s going to make things complicated, of course.” Moneypenny said as they crossed the street together. They wound their way around a street vendor and continued to walk. “On top of that the first thing that happens after you bond is you nearly die, and the only thing that he can do is watch and wait.”

“Not exactly my fault.” Q pointed out, despite the guilt beginning to grow in his chest.

“No, but perhaps you should take that into consideration. Why do you think Bond’s dropped everything to try and make this work? He’s being responsible, he’s doing his job. Or, he’s trying. You’re not making it easy.”

“It’s not my job to make it easy,Eve” Q said.

“Maybe not, but you certainly haven’t given him the benefit of the doubt, have you?” Moneypenny said, pausing so that she could turn and face Q. “I’m not telling you to be overly romantic with the man, I’m not even telling you to love him. But respect what he’s trying to do enough to not be such an arse.”

“And what is it that he’s trying to do?” Q asked, rubbing at his tired eyes. “What is he doing that I should be throwing myself into his debt for?"

Moneypenny looked at Q incredulously. “He’s protecting you, you bloody idiot. He’s dropped that awful bimbo he was seeing, he’s put in for extended leave for your next heat, and he damn near lost his job trying to make sure that you kept yours without interference from Q Branch staff. There isn’t a ton of damage that a person can do in the off-hours of MI6 on a Friday night, but he managed to do quite a bit.”

“Wait, I thought you said he just slept in the lobby?” Q asked, worrying a fingernail between his teeth 

“Not until after he finished calling M at home and verbally berating the night staff in Q Branch until they promised their allegiance to you.” Moneypenny informed him.

“Oh Christ.” Q rubbed his temples and groaned. “I need to get back to the house, Eve. Thanks for the verbal beating.”

“My pleasure, Q.” Moneypenny replied as Q spun around and began to make his way back the way that they had come.

When Q made it back to the house, he was relieved to find Bond’s shoes kicked off in the bedroom and steam billowing from the bathroom where Bond was clearly showering. He heard the squeak of the taps as the water shut off, and Q waited for Bond to appear.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Bond to walk out of the bathroom completely naked.

“Shit, sorry.” Bond said from the bathroom doorway. Q ducked his head and gave a wave of indifference as Bond hurried to wrap a towel around his waist, although a low-pitched whine in the back of his throat betrayed a far more needy biological response. Q may not have been in-heat, but Bond’s scent had begun to wear off in their last two days of minimal contact, and his Omega biology was yearning for the protection of Bond’s marks.

“Uh, no problem, I’ll just-“ Q crashed into Bond’s side table in his rush to leave, and Bond rushed towards him as Q grasped the side of his leg and grunted in pain.

“Are you-“ Bond held Q by the shoulder in an effort to keep the younger man balanced.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Q assured Bond, pulling away slightly. Bond raised his hands defensively as Q tugged out of his reach, looking nearly apologetic. Q sighed.

“Look, Bond… I wanted to apologize, for last night and the way I’ve been acting-“ Q began, glancing at Bond’s face. “I haven’t been fair to you at all, and-“

“Don’t worry about it, Q.” Bond said, moving away to pull open his wardrobe. “I know that this isn’t exactly what you wanted.”

“Well it wasn’t what you wanted either.” Q began. Bond pulled a suit out of the closet and stripped the towel from around his waist to dry off his hair. Q felt a hot wave crash through his body, and he keened audibly as the sight of Bond, mixed with the intensity of his scent, washed over him]. Bond froze at the sound, and Q felt his face grow bright red.

“Christ.” Bond muttered, clenching his hands into fists.

“I’m sorry.” Q rasped, sitting on the bed with his face in his hands. “Your scent’s fading, I can’t, I don’t know what-“ There was panic in his voice.

“Here.” Bond tossed a shirt from the floor back to Q without turning around. It was one of Bond’s cotton undershirts. “Wear it for a little bit, it will help.”

While Q pulled off his own shirt to tug on the one that Bond had given him, Bond concentrated on getting dressed. He was keen on hiding the stiffening of his cock, which had begun the moment that he heard the noises coming from Q, who was already clearly uncomfortable.

“Look, we’ll get all of this figured out, I promise.” Bond said as he tugged on pants and a pair of trousers in quick succession. He picked up a smooth leather belt and looped it around his waist before tucking in an undershirt and shrugged on a button-down. He had just selected a tie and was sliding it underneath his collar when he heard Q’s phone begin to ring.

“Hello?” Q rasped into the phone. He cleared his throat and moved to the other side of the room near the balcony. “Sir. Yes. Yes Sir. Yes, I’m leaving now.” Q hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment.

“Have you been called into headquarters?” Bond asked, sliding the knot of his tie into place.

“Yes.” Q nodded, his face pale. “It seems I’m to outfit you for a mission in Bangladesh.”

“What? That’s preposterous.” Bond began, stopping when he heard the ominous tone of his work mobile. It was Moneypenny.

“You’re to report to M immediately.” She said over the speaker, all business.

“I’m supposed to be on leave for another two days.” Bond said pointedly as he watched Q struggle into one of his cardigans; all limbs and no coordination.

“Well it seems that bullying M at home was a poor choice then, wasn’t it?” Moneypenny quipped. “Come soon, he’s impatient when he’s grumpy.”

“I’m on my way.” Bond said, hanging up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super gigantic thank-you to my wonderful Beta, Dalekfighter1190!

Bond’s mission in Bangladesh lasted eighteen days. During that time, Q was not allowed mission-related contact with the agent. Their bond was considered too fresh for either of them to demonstrate good judgement; their concern for one another threatened to trump the task at hand. It was an insulting assumption to Q, who considered himself the consummate professional and knew Bond to be the same, but he wasn’t in any place to complain. Instead, R handled most of the communications-related duties, and Q’s own correspondences with Bond were quick, perfunctory phone calls wherein Bond asked the status of Q’s health, checked that he was eating, and then assured Q that he would be back as soon as possible. Then he would inevitably have to go, and Q would hang up the phone feeling uncertain and worried.

At first, Q attempted to operate as if it were business as usual. He returned to MI6 and ran Q Branch as if nothing had changed. If any of his staff were initially petulant, Q immediately removed them of their responsibilities and put them on de-bugging duty for the MI6 computers until they learned their place.

After two days, however, Q realized that some of the Alphas of MI6; namely upper-level management and the double-ohs, were casting him meaningful glances. Without his suppressants, Q smelled like an Omega again, and without Bond’s sent to show that he was paired, he would appear to outsiders as open for the taking.

Q met with M and explained the situation in frank terms and a firm voice. The next morning, he set up to work from home; his computer was paired with a series of laptops and tablets that an intern at Q Branch had helped him pack up to take back to the house. From his office, he was able to broadcast himself onto the main screen at Q Branch and be available to them without the risk of leaving the house.

This, of course, created the additional frustration of being caged into the house for the duration of Bond’s assignment while the agent was traipsing around southeast Asia. It did not help that with each day that passed, Q began to inch closer to his next heat.

The final moments before Bond and Q both had to depart to MI6 had been charged tangibly. There was a desperate _want_ in Q, whose body needed Bond’s scent. Q had pretended not to notice Bond’s own reactions to Q, but he could smell the piqued interest rolling off of Bond in waves. They were physiologically bound, and as a result their bodies were in tune with one another.

Of course, to be deprived of an Alpha after such a highly electrified moment and then to be kept away from him for such a long period of time was a dull but potent torture. Q had begun to spend his free time curled up on the furniture that had been Bond’s. He wore Bond’s shirts unbuttoned at the wrists and neck when he went to bed at night. During the day he chain smoked, his habit provided for out of sympathy by Moneypenny. His office reeked of tobacco, and he left the windows thrown open permanently in the hopes of lessening the odds of asphyxiation. Nothing helped to dull the buzzing in Q‘s veins; an endless sensation that only grew as Q’s next heat drew closer.

At one point, he pulled out a calendar and began to count. There had been five days after his initial heat before Bond was sent away, and everything past that was ticking slowly closer. On the twenty-first day, he tried not to think about the agonizing prospect of going through a heat alone. He realized that even if Bond did return in time, they had barely spoken since they had been rescued in Georgia, and most of the conversations that they had had were impolite at best and downright volatile at worst.

The day that Bond was finally finished his mission, Q booked his return in record time and then paced the upper floor of the house while he waited; occasionally trying to occupy himself with a book or with coding and even a particularly odious video game before giving up and resuming his path from his office (where he would stop and smoke a cigarette) and the bedroom (where he would, again, stop and have a cigarette, this time from the cold cement of the balcony).

Bond’s flight landed, and Q was quick to jump into the shower to wash the cigarette smoke off of his skin. He knew that, provided his hack into the London traffic grid was effective, he had seventeen minutes before Bond would appear outside of the house.

After thirteen minutes, Q was dressed and only slightly wet. He had toweled his hair from soaked to damp and pulled on a perfectly respectable pair of trousers and a shirt he usually reserved for work. Three and a quarter minutes later, a car pulled up to the street outside, and Q heard a door open and slam. Seconds later, the front door opened in response to a correctly applied key-code, and Bond stepped inside.

“Q?” Bond called out into the house.

“I’m here.” Q replied. His voice shook slightly from nerves. As Bond climbed the stairs, Q felt his breath grow ragged. An intense comfort at the scent of his Alpha washed over Q before he even saw Bond’s face, which was covered in cuts and bruises.

“You’re hurt.” Q said, concerned.

“I’m fine.” Bond replied, closing the distance between them tentatively. He drew close, running his fingers down the sides of Q’s neck and shoulders in careful, calculated gestures. Q’s heart panged at the realization that Bond was being cautious on his account, not his own.

“Bond, I’m so sorry for before you left. I didn’t-“

“Q, shush.” Bond murmured. He pulled Q closer, and pressed his nose against Q’s hair.

“You don’t have my scent.” Bond said quietly as he touched Q’s skin. His voice was strung tight with concern and something more; possessiveness.

“I haven’t left the house in two weeks.” Q whispered. He wanted to assure Bond that he was willing to be submissive to him; to let Bond protect him. Q laid his head on Bond’s shoulder so that his neck was bared. Bond did not press his teeth or tongue to his flesh, as he expected, but instead ran calloused fingers along Q’s skin.

“Are you tired? Have you eaten?” Q asked. Bond shook his head, but did not move away from Q’s body. The silence was ominous, and Q remembered that this was a man who had just spent eighteen days on an adrenaline high. “I can make you something. Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll-“

“We’ll order in. I’d rather you didn’t go very far.” Bond said, his voice low and filled with gravel.

And so Q called in an order for Indian while Bond took a long shower. This time, when Bond came out of the bathroom, he was already dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old Royal Navy t-shirt. The food arrived, and Q arranged everything on a serving tray while Bond crawled into bed, his back propped up against the pillows.

“You didn’t have to do all of this.” Bond said with a small smile. Q could see the exhaustion weighing under his eyes, but knew that the agent needed food as much as he needed sleep. Besides, preparing food was technically one of the roles that Omegas filled.

“It’s not a big deal.” Q shrugged, head down. Bond watched as Q began to open the containers and then reached out a hand, catching Q by the wrist in a gentle hold.

“Q, stop. You don’t have to do this.” Bond said quietly.

“It’s just takeaway, Bond.” Q said, glancing over his shoulder.

“I know what you’re doing, Q.”

“Bond-“

“You don’t need to act like an Omega just because you’re supposed to be mine.” Bond said.

“But I am yours.” Q cautiously looked over at the agent, who seemed to become even more tired during their few minutes of conversation. “At least, for as long as that’s what you want.” 

“Q, maybe we should talk about all of this.” Bond said. Q’s eyes widened and he dropped one of the containers that he had been holding, sloshing curry onto the tray. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Q said, rushing forward to sop up the mess with a paper towel.

“Don’t- Q, it’s just a spill, don’t worry about it.” Bond soothed. Realizing what had happened, he reached out and pulled Q’s body backwards so that the younger man was closer to him. Carefully, Bond reached around the thin body pressed against him and slowly began to unfasten the buttons on Q’s shirt. He then carefully slid the shirt from Q’s shoulders and tossed it to the floor, pulling Q’s body back so that they were resting skin-to-skin.

“I have no intention of changing our arrangement.” Bond said as Q settled against his chest. “I will be your Alpha for as long as you want me to be.”

“Typically, Omegas don’t have a choice.” Q said, his voice a low whisper.

“I don’t care about that.” Bond said, rubbing his nose through Q’s hair. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about- finding a way to make this work for both of us. I’m no more prepared to be an Alpha than you are to be an Omega; there has to be a compromise that we can reach to make this a fair situation for us both.”

“We can try to be as even-tempered about this as we want, but some things can’t be changed.” Q said, his voice low. Before Bond could respond, Q continued;

“I have a heat coming, Bond. In less than five days.”

Quickly, Bond began to tabulate days in his head. He comes to an answer quickly enough.

“So you do.” He replied, surprised. “I assumed that you would have gone back on your suppressants by now.”

“That’s illegal.” Q noted. It was certainly true- bonded Omegas were not allowed to suppress their heats. It was a rather unforgivable component of the Pairing Laws.

“I didn’t think that that would stop you, honestly.” Bond said, aware of the tense hardness that appeared in Q’s body as he spoke. He realized suddenly that Q was making a concerted effort to be his Omega, and that the lines between duty and loyalty had long since been crossed. Q was not merely playing a role to maintain his safety, he was factoring Bond into the equation as well. That’s why Q was laying there, half naked, while a man who had effectively disappeared on him for nearly three weeks pressed against him. That was why Q was willing to risk enduring a heat alone instead of sneaking suppressants, even though neither Q nor Bond could have possibly known when Bond would have returned from his assignment.

“Well, it did.” Q said, somewhat irritably. “Hence why I brought it up.”

Years ago, Bond had watched a bonded Omega go through a heat while her Alpha was being interrogated by MI6. It had initially been pity that brought the Omega into the secure MI6 facility, but it had been the determined need for information that had left the Omega to suffer in one of the glass cells while the Alpha remained chained up to witness.

The Alpha’s physiological reactions were nothing in comparison to the Omega’s. The Alpha was uncomfortable and predatory, but he was no match for the titanium alloy restraints. The Omega, on the other hand, endured wave after wave of untended heats in intense agony, which was exacerbated by the close vicinity of the Alpha whose scent her body craved. In the end, the Alpha revealed the information that MI6 needed, just so that he would be able to take care of his Omega’s heat.

It was something that Bond had not been able to forget, and it was one of his greatest motivators in remaining unbonded.

Not that he could do anything about that now.

“I’ll call M.” Bond told Q. “Remind him that I’m not to be called out on assignment during that time.”

The visible relief in Q’s face sparked sadness in Bond. Clearly, the Omega had been concerned that Bond would abandon him to that miserable fate.

Bond would have to work much, much harder to prove to Q that he was in good hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Q was sitting in his office, typing out a few lines of computer code that would gain him access to an American corporate directory that was fronting for an international crime ring, when he felt the first wave of his heat hit. It bowled him over, sweat sparking down his spine as he felt himself fall to the floor. 

For the five days preceding the heat, Bond and Q had stayed close and done their best to strengthen their relationship while refraining from extraneous physical contact. Instead they picked over the bulk of their past relationships to discover what each of them expected from the other. While both had remained unbonded, there were serious relationships in their past. There was the Beta named Vesper, Q’s other Omega named Colt. They sat close during these discussions, swirled in the dust and debris of relationships past, and decided how to keep their own relationship from fraying at the seams. 

Bond continued to sleep on the couch outside of the bedroom, and they gave one another a wide range of tentative privacy, neither knowing precisely which lines could be broken.

Now, Q was curled up on his office floor, unsure whether he would need to call to Bond- who was downstairs- or if the scent of his body would be enough to summon his Alpha. He felt his cock begin to harden and wetness began to pool between his legs, but he was unable to do anything besides curl on the floor and let the heat wash over him.

He caught Bond’s scent before he heard him, and the torturous seconds in between Bond’s scent and his arrival felt like an eternity. Bond entered the room and scooped Q off of the floor quickly, holding the Omega close as he carried him into the bedroom.

“I’ve got you.” Bond promised as he deposited Q on the bed. He undressed Q quickly while the man writhed against the mattress, his cock so hard that it appeared painful as Q rutted against the sheets. He begged for Bond to fuck him, his voice coarse in his throat, and Bond’s own cock pressed hard against his trousers at the needy sound.

This time, Bond made sure that Q was lying on his back. In the cell, he had been worried about the cement. Now, though, he didn’t have to worry- he was able to move against Q’s entrance and push inside quickly, his mouth latched to Q’s throat and their chests pressed together.

Q keened loudly as Bond sank into him, and he worked his muscles around Bond’s cock, coaxing Bond’s knot forward. The Alpha groaned against Q’s skin, where he was biting and sucking a deep purple bruise against the flesh. When Bond finished tracing the dark bruise onto Q’s skin, he rested his forehead against the mark and gasped as Q rolled his hips. 

“Fuck, Q.” Bond breathed, hooking the Omega under the upper arms as he thrust harder into Q’s tight, wet heat. Q fought against Bond’s hold with one of his arms, reaching in earnest for his own cock. Bond brushed Q’s hand away and took hold of Q’s length, running his hands from the bottom to the tip with a corkscrew motion that summoned the filthiest sounds that Bond had ever heard.

It was a shock to Bond and Q both when Bond moved from Q’s shoulder to latch onto his mouth. Pure instinct had moved Bond to roam over Q’s body and press roughly against the Omega’s lips. Bond worried at Q’s lower lip before his tongue licked its way inside of Q’s mouth, saliva mixing and tongues twisting together until their tastes were indistinguishable. Moments later, Bond’s knot pressed deeply into his Omega; his body thrusting in rolling motions that caused Q’s eyes to roll back into his head and his mouth to slacken just before he came hard onto his own chest. Bond panted as he felt himself locking into place, and nestled his head against Q’s shoulder, his body drawn tight and his breath coming in ragged bursts as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm. Q writhed around him, egging himself into an immediate second erection. Bond reached between their bodies and worked at Q a second time, determined to make the experience enjoyable for the both of them.

A half hour later, Bond’s knot receded, and he rolled off of Q and towards one side of the bed while Q was lying on his back, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling. After a minute, the younger man shifted so that he was lying on his side, pressed against Bond’s body. The Alpha could see the small, tentative looks that Q shot his way, and was quick to wrap his arms around his Omega so that he knew he was welcome in Bond’s arms.

“Sleep.” Bond soothed, pulling Q against his chest. He placed a kiss on Q’s forehead; a movement that was purely indulgent.

“Yes, James.” Q murmured before he fell away into unconsciousness.

The next morning, Bond did not wait for Q’s heat to hit before he kneeled between the Omega’s legs and slowly licked him open. Q’s body responded quickly, this time the heat was encouraged instead of fought against, which made the entire experience far more pleasant. Q’s ecstasy was mirrored in Bond’s, and Q couldn’t remember enjoying sex quite so much before.

For the next two days, between the heats and the sex, Bond and Q remained close. Q curled himself onto Bond’s chest while they lay in bed, only moving away when Schrodinger appeared by their feet to demand attention from either of the men.They talked about their lives; how they had ended up at MI6, what their childhoods were like, and which books they loved.

“How am I not surprised?” Q laughed when Bond professed his love of Cormac McCarthy.

“ _The Road_ was good.” Bond shrugged, tracing the darkening mark on Q’s neck with his finger. “ _No County for Old Men_ was better.”

“I prefer Tolkien.” Q admitted, bracing himself for Bond’s ridicule.

“Respectable.” Bond said, surprising Q. “Although certainly not my tastes. Too long-winded.”

“You may have a point.” Q agreed with a smile. “But there’s a certain credibility that comes with creating your own language.”

Bond laughed, and Q could feel the vibrations ring deeply in the Alpha’s chest. Warmth radiated from his body, and Q looked up to smile at Bond.

“Are you hungry?” Bond asked, sitting up slowly. Q moved as Bond did, shifting slightly as his legs and lower back protested against his movement. His body was not used to the rigorousness of his newfound physical activity.

“A little. Should I go make us something?” Q asked, gingerly pushing off of the mattress. Schrodinger appeared from underneath the bed and wound around Q’s feet, mewing expectantly.

“Can you even cook?” Bond asked dubiously. “Besides the standard pasta and sandwiches?” He was wearing only his pants, and he began to dig through a drawer in his dresser for a tee shirt.

“I can get by.” Q shrugged, and then began to backtrack. “Of course, I can learn if you want- take official classes or something.”

“Yes, because I’d imagine that as the head of Q Division you’ll have ample time to take a cooking class.” Bond said, looking at Q with a serious expression on his face. “We’ll manage.”

“You say that a lot.” Q mumbled as Bond walked past him. He followed, Schrodinger tucked against his chest. “I’m supposed-“

“Bugger what you’re supposed to do.” Bond said, pausing halfway down the stairs to turn and look at Q. “Those laws don’t protect Omegas, they keep Alphas powerful so that they don’t have to question anything about how they live.”

“How can that possibly bother you? You live the most stereotypical Alpha lifestyle of anyone I know- it’s legitimately in your job description.” Q said as they began to walk again. When they reached the kitchen, he leaned let Schrodinger drop to the floor while Bond opened the refrigerator.

“Most of the time the people that have to deal with those Alpha stereotypes end up worse off for having met me. Plenty of them end up dead, and the ones who don’t probably wish that they had. I don’t want to subject you to that.” The last sentence was quieter, almost an afterthought.

“We’re not talking about dinner anymore, are we?” Q asked, his voice nearly a whisper. He recognized the reverence in Bond’s tone that appeared whenever he was thinking about Vesper. Something inside of Q curled, and he felt the jealousy begin to bloom. As Bond continued to speak, he tried to shake the feeling off.

“I am responsible for protecting you. Part of that is looking after your well being, and you work too much to worry about cooking too.” Bond said, pulling carrots out of the crisper. “I’ll cook when we’re both around, and you’ll just have to get takeaway when I’m out.”

They ate while chatting casually. It surprised Q, how effortless their conversations had become. He had spent nearly the entire dinner laughing, so that when another heat began to stir within him, he thought that it was a wave of sickness. That was, until he felt the full force of it.

Bond froze, fork partway to his mouth, as Q gripped the edge of the table with his hands and whined audibly. His body shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and he felt his toes curling into the carpet beneath his feet. Bond’s entire body went rigid and his nostrils flared.

“Fuck. James.” Q swore breathily. His breath was ragged as he tried to settle his body back down. A small part of him had hoped that he would have finished with a three-day heat, like the last one had been. Sometimes that just wasn’t how things worked.

“I’ve got you.” Bond said, standing and rushing to Q’s side so that he could lead him away.

Bond had moved them to a sofa in the main room, and afterwards Q was lying splayed over Bond’s body. Their bodies were damp with sweat, and their breaths were still coming quickly.

“You know, I don’t even know your real name.” Bond said absently, stroking his fingers through Q’s hair.

“Thomas.” Q mumbled after a moment “My name is Thomas Gallagher.”

“I might still call you Q.” Bond said, lifting his head to look at Q.

“That works well enough. I’ve always hated my name anyway.” Q shrugged. Bond laughed and curled his body so that he could place a soft kiss on Q’s lips.

Q jerked back in surprise for a moment, and he saw the flicker of embarrassment that crossed Bond’s face, just before the guarded expression began to shift into place. Desperate not to miss a moment of openness, Q pushed forward and returned the kiss emphatically, relaxing only when Bond lifted him closer so that they were chest-to-chest.

It was the first time that they kissed without the influence of being in the middle of a heat. Bond tentatively licked his way into Q’s mouth while the Omega groaned in appreciation. Despite all of the talks, the bonding, and the time that they had spent together in bed, it was that moment- the shared softness between them- that solidified everything that they were for one another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to dalekfighter1190 for all of her help and advice!!! <3

From the depths of Q Branch, Q watched with relief as the status of Bond’s plane changed. The screen of his computer indicated that the aircraft was unloading. It was after eight o’clock in the evening, and the last light on in the branch was Q’s. The rest of the branch had been sent home for the evening. He waited until he received a text message from Bond, and then he flicked off his desk lamp and slid his laptop into the otherwise packed-and-ready bag resting at his feet.

_Just landed. Be home soon. But I’m sure you knew that already. –J_

Q grinned as he tapped out a quick reply into the device before he tucked it away into his pocket.

_You know me so well. See you soon. –Q_

There was a light drizzle as Q made his way across the street to the small bank of cabs that always lurked outside of MI6, even late in the evening. It seemed that enough of the staff of Her Majesty’s Secret Service pulled over time that the cabbies of London had caught on. Q slid into the backseat of a black cab and gave the driver his address. He then allowed himself to zone out briefly while they pulled through the Friday-night London traffic. The shops and cars whizzed by in a swirl of ambient colors. Q breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to calm the antsy energy growing inside of him.

The cab pulled up to the house and Q slid a few notes up to the driver before getting out. Most of the house was dark, save for the entryway light and the dull glow in the upstairs window from the hallway light. It had been a habit that Q developed over the months of Bond’s numerous assignments; it made it easier to come home to a mostly-empty house.

Schrodinger was waiting by the door, alerted to Q’s presence by the sound of the external keypad. She mewed and wound around his ankles as he shrugged off his coat.

“Come on then.” He told the cat, leading her back into the kitchen. There were takeout menus piled on the kitchen table, which Q cleared away while the cat ate from a small porcelain bowl in the corner of the room. There was no sense in hiding the numerous leftover takeaway containers in the fridge, which Q had been mixing and matching from for the last two days. It had been a solid two weeks since Bond had left, right after Q’s last heat. Now that Bond would be home, the fridge would slowly refill with actual groceries once again.

Bond had been sent away mere hours after Q’s last heat had ended, the timing arranged to perfection by M. It had been an adjustment, ensuring that Bond could be around for Q without deeply interrupting the integrity of the double-oh assignments. Mostly it was red tape that had forced M’s hand; unbounded agents went on the more time-sensitive assignments that required immediacy. Bond was sent on the assignments without as dire of an initiation date, and he was always home in time for Q’s next heat. It was stressful, but they were making it work. 

With the cat satisfied, Q shut out the kitchen light and retreated upstairs. He turned on his ihome and listened to Helen Jane Long while he stripped off his tie and work shirt. He was standing bare-chested in jeans with his work trousers in one hand when the front door’s locks disengaged. Q froze, listening to the person moving below. The comforting scent of his Alpha filled his nose, instantly encouraging his body to relax slightly. 

“Q?” Bond called out amid a heavy thud that Q recognized as luggage.

“Up here.” Q replied, relieved. He had never quite gotten over the paranoia of living in a bigger house when he was alone.

Q met Bond in the small sitting room at the top of the stairs. Immediately, Bond rushed forward and wrapped Q in his arms. He hadn’t taken off his coat yet, and Q shuddered as the wet wool pressed against his bare skin.

“Sorry,” Bond said with a small laugh. He stripped the coat off and dropped it on the floor before returning his arms to his Omega. He buried his nose in the crook of Q’s neck and licked at the fading mark that he maintained at the base of Q’s neck.

“I’ve missed you.” Bond said, moving his head to nose through Q’s hair. He inhaled his Omega’s scent while his hands roamed over the bare skin of Q’s back. In the moments of lesser urgency outside of Q’s heats, Bond had learned to truly appreciate the angles and curves of Q’s lithe body. He missed it when he was away, almost as much as he missed Q himself.

“I missed you too.” Q murmured, pressing himself close. The comforting presence of his Alpha eased the lingering worries that he carried with him during Bond’s absences. He pressed close to Bond, desperate to have the agent’s scent on his skin.

Slowly, Bond began to trace a line of nips and kisses against Q’s skin with his mouth. He licked over every mark that he left, claiming Q’s body in a way that was undeniably his own. As he worked, Q crossed a hand around to his back in a half-hug as he rested his forehead on Bond’s shoulder.

“Have you been hurt?” Q asked, and Bond was suddenly aware of how light Q’s touches were; careful, and almost hesitant.

“Nothing that won’t heal in time.” Bond replied. He had a burn on one arm and a deep gash on one leg. Besides that, it was only some bruising and sore muscles.

“Did you get the tracking numbers?” Q asked, tilting his head up with curiosity. Bond smiled and pulled away from Q slightly.

“Shop talk already, Q?” Bond asked, looking at his Quartermaster with narrowed eyes.

“Well I know you got the files that M sent you after, but those tracking numbers will make it incredibly easy for my staff to-“ He was cut off as Bond pressed his lips against Q’s. Slowly, the Omega forgot all about the assignment details as Bond worked his way into Q’s mouth, licking at his teeth and lips and tongue languidly. Q returned the gestures, mixing their respective tastes until their mouths reached an equilibrium that was deeply comforting to them both.

“You’re incredibly good at that, you know.” Q whispered as Bond pulled away.

“Hmmm, I’ve heard.” Bond murmured, kissing down the sides of Q’s neck once again. “By the way, I wouldn’t mind if you greeted me dressed like this more often.” He ran his warm hands over Q’s bare skin for emphasis, and Q’s body released a pleased shudder.

“That can be arranged.” Q said with a smile.

“Good.” Bond replied, taking a brief step away from Q. He glanced to the bedroom; the door was open. “Shall we?” He asked.  
“You haven’t eaten. You haven’t even sat down yet. You should relax.” Q protested. His voice was slightly mechanical, however. His protestations were for the benefit of Bond, and quite contrary to his personal desires. If he had his way, they would’ve moved into the bedroom immediately.

“All I want right now is you.” Bond said, running his fingers through Q’s hair. “I want my scent on your skin, I want to feel every inch of you. It’s been too long.”

“I can live with that.” Q replied, stepping back and allowing Bond to lead him out of the hallway and into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
>  
> 
> _1\. Don’t move or I’ll shoot you both. [Estonian]_  
>  _2\. Please. Don’t do this. [Russian]_


End file.
